Diary of Mary Ann Summers
by Catherine Pugh
Summary: From Mary Ann's POV. Ginger is rescued and promises to send back help, but weeks pass and she gets caught up in the whirlwind of Hollywood. The rest lose hope and keep carrying on as usual. Will Ginger keep her promise to get the rest of the Castaways home? With Ginger gone, what happens to the dynamic in the meantime?


July 3rd, 1967

Ginger is gone. It's hard to believe, after four years having her for a roommate, but she's gone. Oh, I don't mean she's dead. Well, I hope not. I heard helicopters can be dangerous, especially ones without doors on the side. I should explain before I run out of paper. This morning a helicopter landed on the beach when I was out digging for clams with the Professor and Gilligan. They were cartographers, re-charting the area surrounding us. They had room for one passenger. There had been some fighting over who would get to go back with them, but after some deliberation between the importance of her and Mr. Howell (and Mrs. Howell insisting they go together), they of course went with Ginger.

Part of me is jealous, knowing that she got her way and is currently probably enjoying a nice steak and newspaper headlines and everything. But we'll be getting back soon, I'm sure.

We all said our goodbyes. She left me all of her evening gowns and perfumes and things, saying now she'll be able to get "real" ones back home, which was nice of her. I don't know how practical an evening gown will be when doing dishes or pedaling the laundry tub, but I suppose I'll wear one at a dance or something.

July 9th, 1967

No word from Ginger herself, but she's been all over the news. Every day since her glorious return, she's been talking about surviving on the island. She hasn't mentioned us ONCE. They just want to know about her, her, her. It's really frustrating. I hope she'll be able to send for help soon. Come on, Ginger. Are you really that selfish?

August 2, 1967

Still no sign of anything. No planes, no boats, no mention on the radio. People may have lost interest in the story. We're beginning to lose hope.

In the meantime, the Professor made me a work table for my hut so I can do drawings. We've been working on a book about island plants together for the past few months. I can hardly believe that when we get back I'll be a published illustrator! (fingers crossed) He's so nice to me.

Today I learned that there are twelve (so far) different species of ferns here. A couple of years ago I would have shrugged and thought, "big deal," but when you look at them all in a row, it's kind of neat to see how they all are different but the same thing. The Professor and I talked about Ginger a little. He misses her, as does everyone else, but he admits that he's beginning to be wary of her being able to send us help. I told him that she can be very self-centered, and if she's getting a ton of attention, that might distract her for a while. Especially if her career picked right up. It's been a month now, and nothing. Does it take that long for people to get rescued if they're IN the ocean? Maybe they figure that since we're on land with food, we're low priority or something.

August 5th, 1967

Still nothing. Gilligan and I went butterfly hunting this afternoon. He caught a blue one I hadn't seen before. I showed it to the Professor, who was very excited by Gilligan's discovery. It was a very rare species. We let it go in hopes it might breed, but we took note of where it was. I made a sketch of it. The Professor hung it up in his hut above his cot. I think he likes it.

August 7th, 1967

The radio just announced that there are plans in Hollywood to make a film about us. Ginger is writing it, with the help of Billy Wilder, of course. Rock Hudson as the Professor, Troy Donahue as the Skipper, Jerry Lewis as Gilligan. They didn't cast me or the Howells, and it's going to be a romantic comedy.

Funny how she's had the time to do this and, oh, I don't know – call the Coast Guard? The Navy? Anyone?

I knew it. I wish they'd sent me. I'd have made sure everyone got back.

We talked about it at dinner tonight a little. Everyone's pretty sore with Ginger, except Gilligan, of course, but he can never be sore at anyone. The Howells are livid, naturally. But Mrs. Howell confided in me later that Ginger and Mr. Howell had a "thing" in the jungle one night and she caught them red-handed. I was shocked. How could we not have heard about this? But Mrs. Howell is a classy lady. She said she wouldn't want us to make a fuss and she didn't want her reputation ruined. HER reputation? What about Ginger's?

The Professor just sat in the corner, grumbling, saying "I told you so," over and over. No one likes a spoilsport, but he's right. I knew Ginger better than anyone and I am not surprised one bit.

September 1, 1967

Well, bye-bye radio. Gilligan's monkey friend can be blamed for this one. Now we'll have no idea if anyone is sending out a search party for us. Or if _The Ginger Grant Story_ is going to be a hit. I kid, I kid. It'll be a hit.

September 3, 1967

The Professor made me a perpetual calendar, so we can at least keep track of dates. Life without the radio is really weird already. We have had the illusion for a while that we were connected to civilization, even if it was completely one-sided, but now it's just us. Alone out here. Now I'll never know how my soap opera turned out.

Gilligan doesn't care either way. He's perfectly content here. At first I thought it was strange when he said that. I miss my home. I miss my uncle and aunt. I miss my hometown. But when I think about it, I'm happy here, too. There's a lot of dangers here, but there's wolves there; headhunters here. I do miss some things like ice cream, but I've learned to adapt.

The Professor is trying to figure out if there's a possible way to learn how to refrigerate things. Wouldn't that be incredible?

September 5th, 1967

We had a talk at dinner tonight and everyone agreed to just assume that Ginger betrayed us. You think you know someone, and they stab you right in the back. It was a hard thing to admit, but it's been too long now and there's no sign of anyone looking for us. So, life goes on as usual here on the island.

Mrs. Howell and I spent the afternoon picking flowers to decorate the huts. It's just her and me now. It's alright. She's a lot more fun to be around when she's had a couple of mai tais in her. Less snobby. We made flower boxes for the Professor's hut and I put in some of his favorites that smell the nicest. I thought it might counteract some of the fumes those chemicals he works with give off.

Mrs. Howell straightened up his cot and noticed the butterfly picture I painted that's hanging on the wall. She said it was "charming" and asked me if I painted it. Well, of course I did! Gilligan can't even paint a square and the Skipper only draws pictures of half-naked hula dancers. She smiled and nodded and then I realized that she is in one of her matchmaking moods again. I told her last time she tried setting me up with Gilligan was a disaster and we're just friends. She said she wasn't thinking of Gilligan this time, she was thinking of the Professor.

The Professor, that's rich. Well, I mean, he's very handsome and nice and I like him very much. I just haven't thought of him as a boyfriend. He's so much older.

Oh, I have to stop. This isn't going to get the laundry done.

September 7th, 1967

I worked on a faucet setup with the Professor today. I took a good look at him when he was putting the pipes together. He's very good looking. I imagined what it would be like to kiss him. It might be nice. He's a good dancer. He's smart and kind. Oh, but I feel like a kid sometimes when I'm around him. I know I'm in my mid-20s, but he's been all over the world and I've only ever been to two places: Kansas and here. But he tells me stories about his adventures. He went on an expedition in Egypt once and saw the pyramids and the Sphinx. I told him I had a cat named Sphinx back home. I've always wanted to go to Egypt. My family thought I was nuts.

September 8th, 1967

Gilligan, the Skipper, the Professor and I dug up a bunch of clams for dinner. We had a good old-fashioned clam bake! We sang some songs and ate really well tonight. I hoped the Professor would sit next to me on the log, but Gilligan sat there first. The Professor sings really well. I'm a terrible singer, but I don't care, it's just us, not the Mormon Tabernacle Choir! Mr. Howell got drunk and went to bed early, and Mrs. Howell followed later. Gilligan accidentally burned a hole in his shoe. We figured it was probably best to go to bed at that point.

September 9th, 1967

I made a mango pie. The Professor helped me do the dishes tonight. I washed, he dried. We talked about favorite things each other has. I learned his favorite book is _The Jungle_ by Upton Sinclair. I read that in school. Ironic that we're in an actual jungle with clean food now.

He asked me my favorite book, and I told him it was _Little Women._ He never read it, so I told him the plot and before I knew it I'd told him the entire plot of the book. I never thought Jo should have ended up with Laurie, to be honest, even though my best friend Cathy was furious. I liked her with the German guy. Jo had to go out and see the world. Anyway, he seemed to enjoy the plot of the book very much.

September 10th, 1967

Mrs. Howell just sent me a formal invitation to "an intimate evening at the Howells' tomorrow evening." She told me to wear something elegant. Great, another setup because Mary Ann Summers is too homely to get a date herself. I shouldn't be so down on myself. I really could use a night off of cooking. Mr. Howell and Gilligan are barbecuing a small boar we trapped. You know, Gilligan's a surprisingly good cook. Most people wouldn't guess that, but he's not bad.

Anyway, I'll take in that blue dress of Ginger's that she wore when Eva Grubb beaned her on the head. I always thought it was pretty. My red dress is fine, but Mrs. Howell insisted on an evening gown. This is ridiculous.

September 11th, 1967

Well, dress is all taken in. I look a little crazy right now wearing it, because my hair's still in pigtails. I'll put it up later. Mrs. Howell came by a few minutes ago and she clapped and spritzed me with some of Ginger's perfume, so I guess it'll work. I feel so weird in this getup. And this perfume is strong. I'll be attracting bees if I don't watch out.

September 12th, 1967

I screwed things up, royally. Me and my big mouth.

Apparently the Professor himself asked the Howells and Gilligan and the Skipper to set this date thing up, it wasn't Mrs. Howell's fault. I was so ungracious and sarcastic the whole time because I was sure that Mrs. Howell was meddling again and I felt so out of character in that evening gown, and here the Professor was trying to be romantic and I thought he was acting. Oh, I'm such a creep. He brought me flowers and kissed my hand and I just said something sarcastic about Ginger's coaching finally working. Then I pretended to be Elizabeth Taylor with her accent and I made such an idiot out of myself. Everything felt so contrived and unnatural, just like every other Howell party, and I couldn't take it seriously. Then when I left early, The Skipper took me aside and told me what was really going on. I looked in the window and the Professor just hung his head and was picking at his lobster.

I feel so awful.

I didn't know, I thought he thought it would be as funny and weird as I did and here I found out that he's had a crush on me and I was so rude. Now he thinks that I don't see him in that way. Exactly what Gilligan did to me a few years ago! I remember how much that stunk at the time, but it was for the best. Gilligan's a great friend. But the Professor, I had no idea he had any romantic interest. This is all so weird. I feel like I stepped into another world all of a sudden and I can't figure out what's going on and I'm so embarrassed.

I know I can't avoid him forever. The Professor must think I'm the meanest person in the world. I didn't want to hurt his feelings. I had no idea he had feelings at all for anyone, he always seems so hung up on his work. I'm so miserable. Good job, Mary Ann. Someone finally takes notice of you and you louse it up by being a jerk.

September 13, 1967

I went over to the Professor's hut to apologize. I made him his favorite, halibut with kumquat sauce. When I knocked on the door, he turned around and everything seemed as normal. Too normal, if you ask me. I told him I was sorry, or tried to, anyway, but he just put up his hand and said he understood, and got very quiet and thanked me for the halibut with kumquat sauce. I didn't get a chance to explain, but then again, what would I say? I have no experience in this sort of thing.

I thought I'd be relieved after I left, but I don't feel relieved at all. Part of me wishes that the date had gone well. I think we would have had a lot of fun if there wasn't so much pressure on us. But he's not mad at me or anything. He still wants to go searching for that butterfly.

So why do I feel so empty?

September 17, 1967

I've been down in the dumps for the past couple of days. I still feel mad at myself. Gilligan and I went fishing earlier and he asked why I've been in such a sore mood, but I didn't want to tell him why because when I say it out loud I feel worse. He said he didn't like to see me in a bad mood, and I know he meant well, but sometimes I just get in bad moods! I yelled at him and stomped back home. At least I didn't have Ginger on my back, too.

The Professor has been so different since the date night - not mean or anything like that, but more distant than usual. We used to be able to talk so easily about everything, and now he just gets quiet and doesn't talk as much, or he'll just spout off a bunch of facts about something and that's it. Maybe I'll do something for him. I know he likes my drawings. I'll draw him something nice.

September 25, 1967

I finished my drawing. I did a picture of his favorite place, the overlook cliff by the ocean. He likes to go there to think. He told me once that the sound of the ocean calms his mind.

He's right. I feel a lot better after spending the afternoon there. I made some ink out of those berries that stain everything when you brush past them. I hate trying to wash them out of our clothes, but they turned out to make pretty great ink! I was able to make a couple of different colors, which is neat.

I'm just waiting for a good time to give it to him. I am so bad at these things.

October 4, 1967

I kept chickening out so I just left it in his hut on his table, with a note. Here's what I wrote:

_Dear Professor,_

_I made this for you to hang on your wall. I hope you can recognize where it is. I know it isn't scientifically accurate, but I thought you might like something pretty for your hut._

_Love, _

_Mary Ann_

I hope he likes it. I like how it came out.

October 10, 1967

The Professor liked my painting. He came to my hut late the other morning and thanked me for it, and said he hung it over his table. He took a look at my art table and said he was "impressed with my ingenuity" with the inks. He looked at all of my paintings and said that I was very good and could have a career as an illustrator back home. I wonder if that's true! I would love to do that!

He asked if I'd like to go snorkeling with him, and I was so happy that he seemed more like the old Professor. I admit at that point I was kind of sorry that he didn't seem interested in anything else, just a swim, but it was hot and I was glad he was making an effort to be friendly again.

We got to the beach and jumped in. I'm not much of a swimmer, especially since he was a scuba diver, but he's taught me how to snorkel just fine. It's really fun, and we've found some interesting things underwater. The water was pretty calm and everything was nice and clear. No sharks today!

October 18, 1967

Everyone was busy this afrernoon. The Skipper and Gilligan went fishing. The Howells were working on miniature golf course plans (typical). I helped the Professor with the refrigeration attempts. He hasn't had any luck in finding Freon on the island, of course, but we thought of a way to keep things cool in the underground cave using an irrigation system and keeping stuff submerged in an insulated box. It's not a freezer, but it keeps some things cool for a day or two.

We got hungry after a while, so I suggested a picnic up on the cliff, which he thought was a nice idea, so we packed some food and walked up.

Lunch was nice. We saw a couple of birds, and I got some ideas for pictures on the way there. Even though it seems our little romance has fizzled, we have been having a lot of fun. He told me he never knew a girl as sharp as me, which is kind of nice. Although I don't think he's really known many girls at all, so who knows.

October 20, 1967

Today the Professor and I were in the little glade behind the huts weaving the palm fronds Gilligan collected into mats. We built a bamboo pedal car last year and it's starting to fray a little. It works sort of like a bicycle or those little boats people rent at lakes.

It's only a few miles an hour slower than Grandpa's old jalopy in the barn. So we were refinishing the roof part, when my hand brushed against his. He took it in his for a couple of seconds and our eyes met. I smiled, I couldn't help myself, and next thing I knew, he kissed me. It certainly wasn't like any kiss I ever had before. When he pulled away he apologized and I said I was happy he did it. So he told me how he felt about me, and I told him that I wanted to be with him, and apologized for my behavior. I explained that his feelings had taken me by surprise, and it wasn't that I didn't feel anything for him, I just didn't expect it.

He kissed me again and said he was in love with me. And I am in love with him, too.

October 30, 1967

We decided to get married tomorrow. I just finished altering one of Ginger's gowns. Finally, an appropriate venue to wear one! I made a veil out of another dress. It isn't white, but who cares? The Skipper and Gilligan and the Howells are making a little raft for us to get married on in the lagoon. Ginger isn't here to be my maid of honor, so I asked Mrs. Howell. And Gladys the monkey is going to be my flower girl. I made her a little wreath for her head.

November 27th, 1967

Well, since my last entry, I've become Mary Ann Hinkley, and the Professor and I live together in my hut, and we had a delightful honeymoon on the other side of the island for a couple of weeks. We are very happy. I love my husband very much, and we have been enjoying ourselves. We got married on November 10. That's his birthday. I suggested that.

I suppose I should mention that the Professor's real name is Roy, but we've all called him "The Professor" so long that saying his real name in our vows was strange. It's become sort of a nickname, and he doesn't mind it. I told him later I wasn't even sure who I was marrying when I said his real name.

The Howells gave me away, and Gilligan was the Professor's best man. Gladys ripped up and ate the bible afterward, much to Mrs. Howell's shock. Mr. Howell asked Gladys if the Old Testament was tasty.

Things otherwise haven't changed much, but the Professor and I are enjoying our marriage so far. Other than living together now, our lives haven't changed too much in the day to day.

I wish my parents could have been at our wedding, and my aunt and uncle. When I was a younger girl, I never thought that my future would involve being marooned on a desert island and marrying a high school science teacher, but life can throw you some weird curve balls.

December 3, 1967

WE ARE GOING HOME THIS AFTERNOON.

I can't believe it. We're going home. Ginger didn't betray us, after all! She was on a ship! With the whole darned Navy! Well, not all of them, of course, but there sure were a lot of sailors on board with her!

Gilligan spotted the ship when the rest of us were working elsewhere on the island, and miraculously was able to successfully light a signal fire. They saw us, and they landed, and they are taking us back!

Ginger explained that she had been swindled into a contract with her producer to write a story or kiss her career goodbye. They put a gag order on her to keep from telling anyone that the rest of us were still alive until the film was produced. Weak excuse, maybe, but that's what happened.

After the movie was made, she was free to tell everyone without legal consequences. She said she did add me in after all, some actress named Sally Field played me. Sally Field. What a name.

The Professor and I packed up a few things we wanted to take back – our research, my artwork, our writing. The Howells packed eight suitcases (they said they would travel light this time) and the Skipper is currently talking shop with the captain.

Gilligan is not happy. He doesn't want to leave the island, or his friend Gladys.

Ginger was shocked when she found out the Professor and I got married. She said that she would have been jealous if she had stayed, but she was happy for us now that she had twelve men chasing after her. She said monogamy wasn't for her. Not surprising.

We have the rights to the island, now – it legally belongs to us, equally. The Howells talked a lot about developing it into a resort hotel, but the Professor and I have equal billing and we feel the land should be kept in trust as a research facility, given how many rare species of plant and animal thrive there. The Skipper seems to be siding with the Howells, so the deciding factor is Gilligan. And I don't think he wants to take away Gladys's home.

December 6, 1967.

The Professor and I are staying in a hotel in Honolulu right now. A real bed! The one we made on the island was lovely, but oh, it is luxurious to be on an actual mattress! We slept in until noon for the first time, and didn't leave the room until three hours later. It was very…nice. I'll leave it at that. We love each other very much. Privacy will never be underrated. Neither will warm showers and satin sheets and flush toilets. I feel like a princess.

We're going to have a goodbye party tomorrow night before everyone goes back to their homes. My mother and aunt and uncle are coming here in a few days. We haven't told anyone yet that I'm married, but I'm sure they'll like my husband. I certainly do!

December 8, 1967

Everyone has gone. I feel very lonely right now. The Howells flew back to New York City last night. They surprised everyone with their generosity: each one of us received two million dollars and a Howell home.

Can you believe it? I cried. The Professor and I will be moving to a large old fashioned mansion in Washington, DC. I don't know how I'll explain this to my parents, but I've always wanted to visit there. And now I'll be living there.

We all exchanged addresses and phone numbers so we could call or talk when we needed. Gilligan is going to be living in Hawaii near the Skipper. They plan to use their fortune to start a touring company. Ginger is in Hollywood, and _The Ginger Grant Story_ seems to be a hit. The Professor and I saw it in the theatre. Personally, we thought it stunk, but it was still funny to see us acted out by famous people. That Sally Field isn't bad! Ginger also got the Howells to be written into the film.

December 15, 1967

Reunited with my family. I introduced my husband to my mother as "The Professor" without thinking. She was very confused at first until he explained his name was actually Roy Hinkley. They like him, even if my mother said she needs a translator to understand half of what he says.

We are planning to move to Washington in a few weeks. We're going to visit Kansas first and then I'll meet his family in Ohio. I want to show him our family farm.

Adjusting to civilization has been harder than I thought. I can't take the noise. I was excited at first, but part of me just wants that peace we had on the island. I want a little of both.

We have been offered book deals, however. The Professor was given an advance for his research book, _Fun With Ferns_, and several publishing companies have been interested in my illustration work. It's nice to have a disposable income and a free house to live in, but I miss the island so much.

March 5, 1968

Happy new year. We're currently living in DC. I met the Hinkleys. They are very nice people and they were happy that Roy and I were married. I think they were surprised at first that I was so much younger than him, but when you think about it, twelve years isn't that much.

It was really interesting to see DC for the first time. The Professor and I checked out all the historical monuments, and the Smithsonian. I don't want to sound ungrateful, though, but the Howell mansion is so LARGE. I'm so used to a fifteen-foot square hut. There isn't even a closet that small. It seems so wasteful to me. The Professor and I have been talking about it, and he is unhappy as well. He misses the quiet solitude, and just wants to research and write.

We may donate the house to some university. We haven't decided, but we're thinking about going back to the island. It's not for us.

August 12, 1968

The Howells wrote to us and apologized for giving us too big a mansion. They offered one in Boston that was "a few rooms smaller" but we declined. Finally I called Mr. Howell and asked him if we could donate our DC home to the university as a research facility. "My dear girl, do as you like!" he said. We discussed the island's future, and Mr. Howell agreed to let us be the caretakers of the place, if we wished. It is officially being recognized as a US territory, but the land is all privately owned by us. When each person dies (a sad thought), the remaining property will be equally divided among the survivors.

We got a postcard from Gilligan. He says he misses Gladys.

So The Professor and I are officially going to be returning to the island. The Howells have decided a resort hotel would be too costly to keep anyway, so they're arranging to have a modest home (to our specifications) built on the island, near the old camp, and we will live there together. I have a lucrative deal as an illustrator, now, and my husband is interested in continuing his work. Civilization is not for us, but at least we have a tether to it now. It won't be as rough as it used to be. I can't wait to see my work published!

Oh, I have news. The Skipper got married to a woman at some bar where he used to go. Her name is Sheila. He sent a picture of her to us. She's very pretty. Apparently they used to go out once in a while before we were shipwrecked.

Gilligan called us and said he missed the island and wondered if Gladys missed him too. I think that we're going to offer him to come along with us, if he wants.

October 22, 1968

We are home. Gilligan is home. This was the right choice. We had the contractors make a small house for Gilligan about a half mile up the path. He loves it. His sister and brother have visited a couple of times. They're less clumsy, but just as easygoing. We also found out his real first name is Willy. All these years and we never knew that.

Anyway, the Professor and I agree that we never want to live in civilization again, although we're wealthy enough to visit wherever we want. We're thinking perhaps Egypt. But people are more than welcome to come to us! The Howells, Skipper and Ginger are going to visit us at Christmas. My family and the Hinkleys, too.

The home the Howells built for us is lovely. It's just the right size for what we need, but not ostentatious.

My island paintings were featured in _The New Yorker_! Roy was so proud of me when I got the check in the mail. Believe it or not, we get mail once a month by cargo ship. We're in the shipping lanes now. We see ships and planes all the time! Hard to believe it. Anyway, he gave me a big hug and kiss.

December 20th, 1968

Everyone is here. Everyone! I'm very grateful to have been able to fly out my family to have Christmas with us. The Howells got here yesterday and Mrs. Howell brought her little dog, Snookums. It doesn't like anyone else but her. It bit the Skipper when he tried to pet it. The Skipper's wife is nice, but she's pretty brash. I guess he likes that kind of woman. Ginger came with two boyfriends. She's covered with new jewelry and enjoying a resurgence in her career. It's all she ever wanted.

As for us, we're just living day by day. We see Gilligan about twice a week and sometimes he comes over for dinner, but we mostly keep to ourselves. The Professor and I keep busy tending our vegetable patch and talking. I've started in on his massive collection of books.

Seven years ago, if you had said that one day I would be a famous artist married to a scientist living on an island, I would have laughed in your face. I would have also laughed if you'd said that one day Sally Field would get her first Oscar nomination for playing me. But from what I hear, from Ginger, the gossip says she will. Even though I died in the movie.

The Professor and I are looking forward to the coming months. I just found out we're going to have a baby this summer. I haven't told him yet, but he's been talking about wanting to start a family, so I know he will be thrilled by the news.


End file.
